


GCAT

by thecomedownchampion, Weak



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecomedownchampion/pseuds/thecomedownchampion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weak/pseuds/Weak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is a genetic engineer. When Dave slept with him, he was expecting to establish a friends with benefits arrangement. What he was not expecting was to become involved in a case of biological terrorism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> The science called for me, and I answered.

There’s a distinctive click and a muted flash and the sea turtle loses interest, swimming away from the aquarium window. Dave Strider tilted his camera at the floor and pressed the review button, hoping that the lower flash setting hadn’t created too much glare on the glass of the tank. Reasonably satisfied with his result, he moved on, every so often taking a picture of another aquatic animal. He wasn’t sure about the aquarium in its own right, but he couldn’t deny that the subjects were fairly decent and provided aesthetically pleasing photographs. Maybe he could sell some.

 _Click; flash._ The octopus curled among the coral changed the colour and texture of its skin to red and rough, two papillae rising over its eyes.

“Did you know that octopi can see with their skin?”

Dave suppressed a jump and turned around to see a young man leaning over his shoulder, grinning at the sight of the octopus.

“Well it hasn’t been _confirmed._ I mean, it’s not like we can get the octopus’s point of view,” the man continued in a slightly nasally voice, “but there is evidence in support of the theory. The same gene that allows the human eye to perceive light is active in an octopus’s skin cells. Neat, huh? It looks like you pissed that one off with your camera though. That’s an _enteroctopus dofleini_ , commonly known as the giant Pacific octopus. Judging by that one’s size, it’s a juvenile.”

Dave was only half-listening; he was too busy examining the man’s features as he spoke. He was fairly handsome with wild dark hair, a straight nose, a sharp jaw and strong brow. His lips were thin, but bowed, creating an overall pleasing presentation and it was clear that the man had once had braces, though it was evident that he still had a bit of an overbite. He was taller than Dave by a few inches, perhaps four at most, and he had broad shoulders that promised strength. Most striking of all, however, were the deep blue eyes, framed by square-rimmed glasses. Dave couldn’t quite discern if the man’s eyes were really that blue, or if it was an illusion caused by the glow of the aquarium next to them, making the man’s pale skin look almost ethereal. Dave didn’t really think before he raised his camera, catching the man mid-sentence.

_Click; flash._

The man blinked at Dave from equal parts shock and reflex due to the flash. The man frowned.

“You shouldn’t take pictures of people without their permission. It’s illegal.”

“No it isn’t,” said Dave. He let his camera hang from the strap around his neck again and gestured at the aquarium. “You seem to know a lot about octopuses. Do you work here?”

“Nope!” said the man. “I have a pamphlet.” He raised the aforementioned article. “There’s a picture of each animal exhibited in here, its name, and a brief description of its natural habitat.”

“So nothing about octopuses and seeing skin, I’m guessing?” Dave raised an eyebrow and the man smiled sheepishly.

“No, nothing about that. My name is John. John Egbert. I’m a genetic engineer.”  

“A genetic engineer, huh?” Dave leaned back against the glass of the aquarium. “What brings you here?”

“My boss and I are here for inspiration, and by inspiration I mean DNA samples of some of the different fauna here,” said John.

“What do you want the DNA samples for?”

“Comparison to the human genome, finding potentially compatible genes… You know, mad scientist shit.”

Dave smirked. “What are you, Dr. Curt Connors?”

John grinned and raised both hands, wiggling them. “Nope! Both hands are present and fully functional. I can assure you with great confidence that we don’t have some super-secret spider room waiting to infect unsuspecting nerd prodigies.”

“Well, Dr. Egbert, my name is Dave Strider.” Dave extended a hand and John shook it happily; he had a firm, but not painful, grip.

“A pleasure to meet you, Dave!” John peeked to the side of Dave as the sound of cursing approached. “Ah, and there’s my boss. Hey, Karkat!”

“And where the fuck have you been, you indiscriminate shithead? I have been searching all over the damn place to find you,” said the approaching manchild. No really. The guy couldn’t have been over five and a half feet tall. He looked to be of Indian descent and a permanent scowl was carved into his features. He turned that scowl on Dave. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Dave Strider, at your service,” said Dave with a sardonic smile.

“I don’t care if you’re the queen of fucking England. This mentally deficient asshole is distracted enough on a regular basis. He doesn’t need strangers to arbitrarily engage him in even more mind-numbing discussion when he already has work to do!” Karkat rambled angrily. He reminded Dave a little of a Chihuahua.

“Actually, I approached him first,” John said, eyes twinkling with withheld laughter. “He was looking at the octopus.”

“Holy shit! A fucking octopus! Why don’t we all just eschew our professions and life goals in favour of diving into a tank to be sodomized by a fucking cephalopod?!”

“Damn, Egbert. You never told me that your boss was into bestiality,” said Dave.

Karkat turned on Dave with a snarl. “Don’t you fucking start on me. Jesus fucking Christ! I just met you and I am already done with you. Come on, John. I got the fucking samples by myself, now let’s get our asses out of here.”

“Yo, let me talk to Egbert for a second longer.” Dave crossed his arms.

Karkat threw his hands into the air. “Fucking fine! Egbert, I’ll meet you back at the lab.”

John snickered. “Later, Karkat!” John turned a grin on Dave. “You survived your first Karkat encounter without bursting into tears! That’s more than most people can say; I commend you. I promise he’s not always like that. He’s all talk.”

“Yeah, I could tell. He looks like he could be from the fucking Lollipop Guild.”

John giggled. “You’re really not from around here, are you? You talk like the Lone Ranger.”

“No shit, I’m from Texas. I just moved here last week.” A sudden thought came to Dave and he smirked inwardly. “How would you like to throw a house-warming party with me tonight?”

John opened his mouth to speak, then stopped as a sudden look of understanding came over him. He blinked, looking surprised and a little flattered. “Sure. You seem like a pretty cool guy. I suppose I wouldn’t be against the idea of ‘partying’ with you.”

Dave grinned. Target secured. “Cool. Here’s my number.” They exchanged phones to add their respective numbers to each other’s contact list. “Just text me and I’ll give you the address. Six o’clock?”

“Six o’clock sounds good.” John returned Dave’s grin with his own, looking a little giddy. “I’ll see you then!”

“That, you will.”

 

 

Six o’clock was better than good.

Beneath Dave, John was beautifully flushed down to his chest, panting for breath through parted, kiss-swollen lips. His eyes were half-lidded, glasses discarded on the nightstand. John didn’t have a propensity for noise, but as Dave quickened his movements and the pleasure built up steadily in delicious layers, he became increasingly vocal. Sweat clung to their skin and their breath mingled, making the air seem even thicker between them. Dave leaned down to suck another red mark into John’s skin. His hand was just slipping down to John’s groin when John suddenly gasped; back arching, toes curling, and body tensing as he reached his orgasm.

Dave moaned. The feeling of John’s body clenching around him was nothing short of heavenly, and it took only a few more thrusts before Dave himself was stiffening, pressing deep inside of John with a full-body shudder. When Dave’s vision returned, he carefully pulled out of John and knotted the condom before dropping it into the garbage can next to the bed and joining John in a boneless heap. Side by side, they struggled to catch their breath.

“Holy shit,” John breathed.

Dave hummed in affirmation and reached over to the nightstand, accidentally knocking his shades off of it before he retrieved his lighter and cigarettes. He placed the end of a cigarette in his mouth and lit up, taking a deep drag before exhaling, watching the smoke curl above his face.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” said John.

“That’s because I only smoke on two occasions,” Dave explained, “when I’m stressed as fuck, or after mind-blowing sex.”

“Mind-blowing sex, you say?” John smirked.

“I’d consider it to be in the top five.”

“How many partners have you had?”

This time Dave smirked. “Five.”

John flung out an arm to smack Dave in the chest, but he was chuckling. “So do you do it for the cliché or what?”

“That would be precisely it, Egbert.” Dave took another puff before offering the cigarette to John. The sight of John’s lips wrapped around it as he inhaled was particularly satisfying, albeit not as satisfying as it would be to see his lips wrapped around a certain other something. If the easy way John exhaled was anything to judge by, which it was, he was no stranger to cigarettes. John took one more drag before he handed off the cigarette to Dave again.

“So I’m taking it this isn’t the kind of thing you do very often; take home strangers and fuck them into your mattress,” John mused.

“Nah,” said Dave. “And what about you? Are you prone to letting random men spelunk in your tunnel of love?”

John snorted a laugh at the euphemism. “Not really! I’ve had a couple of one night stands, but nothing to really speak for.”

“College,” said Dave.

“College,” John agreed.

“So tell me about yourself, John. What do you do?”

“Well right now Karkat and I are focusing on vector viruses,” said John. “You probably don’t know what that is though, so let me explain. Viruses are cellular parasites. They infect healthy cells by introducing their genes to a cell’s and basically hijacking it. A viral vector utilizes the virus’s ability to alter the genome of host cells so that we scientists can pick and choose specific genes to introduce to our target cell. There are all kinds of viral vectors to use; retroviruses, lentiviruses, adenoviruses… Now _usually_ we delete the part of the virus’s genome that makes it pathogenic, which Karkat and I are still doing right now, but eventually we would like to create a viral contagion of our own design.”  

Dave didn’t look quite so excited about it as John did. He was frowning. “Isn’t that some biological warfare shit?”

John gave an exasperated sigh. “In the wrong hands, sure, this technology could be pretty dangerous! But that’s not what Karkat and I are doing. Imagine we found a cure to AIDS or something. AIDS is pretty fucking bad. Now in the _right_ hands, like mine and Karkat’s, we could use an airborne vector virus as a mass-distributor of the genetic sequence that negates AIDS. In the long-run, it would be cheaper because the cure would only have to be manufactured and released once, and then humankind would do what it does best. And because the virus alters your very genome, the cure would be passed on to every subsequent generation. At this point, however, this is all hypothetical.”

Dave nodded in concession, crushing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray on his nightstand. “Okay, I see what you mean. That still sounds like some pretty fucking risky shit to me though.”

“Don’t worry; we would never release a virus that hasn’t been tested extensively and confirmed to be absolutely one hundred percent safe.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“So what do you do?”

Feeling a little more comfortable now that John seemed to be straying from the topic of research with apocalyptic implications, Dave rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on John’s shoulder, resting his hand in the center of the larger man’s chest. It had all the muscle John’s broad shoulders had assured; fucking score. “I’m a freelance journalist and I make money off of my art and photography on the side.”

“A journalist?” John sounded intrigued and… almost worried? “What kind of stuff do you write about?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I mostly do movie critiques. I honestly give pretty few fucks about the science world. I mean there’s some cool stuff, but I wouldn’t really call it my field of personal interest.” Dave shrugged.

John visibly relaxed. “Okay. So is all the art around the apartment yours then?”

“Dave Strider originals, each and every one of them.”

“Wow, you’re really amazing! These look professional!” John didn’t have to fake how impressed he was. Dave grinned at the generous ego stroking.

“Of course,” he said. “They wouldn’t sell if they didn’t look good.”

“Next time you have me over, you should draw me like one of your French girls.” John winked.

“You assume there will be a ‘next time’.”

“Won’t there be?” John’s voice sounded innocent, a far cry from the tone he’d used when he asked Dave to fuck him.

Because Dave enjoyed the contrast, he made a show of pretending to think about it. “Hmm… I guess I wouldn’t be _entirely_ opposed to the idea of having you over again.”

John grinned triumphantly. “That’s what I thought! Besides, this was more of a bed-warming party than a house-warming party.”

“Mm, you’re right. We’ve only christened the bedroom.” Dave pressed slow kisses along John’s shoulder, hand sliding toward his stomach. John’s breath caught. “We still have to christen the living room—” kiss “—and the kitchen—” kiss “—and the bathroom—” kiss “—and the—”

“Stop it!” John giggled and Dave’s hand slid right into the semen on John’s stomach.

“Oh, fucking gross.” Dave wrinkled his nose and John howled with laughter as Dave reached for a few tissues, delicately cleaning his fingers before mopping up the drying mess on John’s skin. “You seem fucking pleased with yourself.” Dave huffed as he placed the soiled tissues into the garbage can before he took up his previous position with his head on John’s shoulder. “I see your mom taught you your fuckin’ manners.”

John gave Dave a wounded look and… were those _tears_ in his eyes? “My mom died when I was a kid, Dave.”

It was time to backpedal. “Oh fuck. Shit, John, I had no idea.” Dave floundered.

All pretenses of hurt disappeared and John’s lips curled up as he snickered. “Oh man, that was too perfect. My mom actually is dead, but I don’t remember her or anything. I was like, three years old.”

“You are such an asshole.”

“You love it, you slut.”

Dave swatted John’s chest to little affect, which just made him snicker even more.

“Are you hungry?” asked John. “Because I’m starved.”

“So you soil my bed with your bodily fluids and now you want to eat all of my food too?”

“That is precisely what I intend to do. Get off of me, fatty.” John patted Dave’s side.

“Rude,” Dave mumbled as he rolled onto his back. John sat up and stretched before recovering his glasses, standing up and walking over to the open bedroom door. Dave admired the view of John’s ass. John’s ass was God’s gift to mankind. John set his hand on the doorframe and turned to look at Dave, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Do you like pancakes?”

“For dinner? Why the fuck not?”

John grinned and left the room without putting on his boxers again. Jesus Christ, that was hot. If Dave hadn’t just gotten off twenty minutes ago, he would be rock hard all over again. Even now there was a slight twitch of interest. Dave was thoroughly pleased with his decision to proposition John. He just hoped the bastard could actually cook. He laid on his bed for a little longer, sprawling across the rumpled sheets, before he finally mustered the will to get up and see how John was managing. Dave pulled on a pair of boxers and traversed his way through the maze of unpacked boxes to get out of the bedroom. John was already pouring batter into a pan, looking right at home in Dave’s kitchen. Dave sauntered over and wound back a hand before cracking it down on John’s rear.

John’s reaction wasn’t as dramatic as Dave had hoped, but the yelp and the telltale shiver was all he needed. He massaged the reddening flesh and leaned his chin on John’s shoulder to inspect the pancake-making.

“How’s it going, toots?” he asked casually.

“Pretty good.” John managed to keep a fairly steady voice despite the circumstances. “Your kitchen wasn’t too difficult to navigate.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” Dave’s hand squeezed gently and he pressed a kiss to one of the hickeys on John’s shoulder. Perhaps he wasn’t as spent as he’d thought. John flipped the pancake nonchalantly; it was light gold. The bastard could cook.

“Do you _want_ me to burn these?” John asked. “Because if you really wanted me to cook them a little darker, you could just say so.”

“Nah. You just have a perfect ass. I could play with it all night. And all tomorrow night. And the night after that.”

John grinned to himself. “So much for a one night stand.”

“One night stands are for people who can’t appreciate what they’ve got. Let’s be fuck buddies,” said Dave.

“Butt buddies?”

“Fuck buddies.”

John placed the finished pancake on a plate and poured more batter into the pan. “You have yourself a deal.”

When John poured the last of the batter into the pan for the final pancake, he instructed Dave to set the table. Dave snarked, but he did it anyway. John cooked, so it was only fair. It was also fair that Dave made John put on his boxers before sitting at the kitchen table. There were two pancakes each and Dave drowned his in syrup before taking a massive bite. This time when he moaned, it was only a little sexual.

“These are fucking good,” Dave declared.

John smiled. “I’m glad you like them. I always did the cooking when my dad wasn’t around.”

“Do you have siblings?”

“A younger sister, Jade.” John had a fond look on his face as he chewed his bite of pancake in thought.

“How old is she?” asked Dave.

“Turning twenty-four. She’s an astrophysicist.”

Holy balls. Dave masked his amazement with a nod of acknowledgement. Maybe the Egberts were the nerd prodigies after all. “I have two siblings; my bro and a twin sister. My sister is a psychologist and my bro makes puppet porn.”

John choked on his pancake laughing.

“The worst part is I’m not even joking. He literally makes puppet porn for a living. Plush rump dot com. Check that shit.”

John slapped his knee before he finally regained control of himself. “Oh man. Now this I will have to see.”

Dave couldn’t help grinning. “So how old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” said John. “I was really lucky to land a job straight out of college. I went to school here in Seattle, so it wasn’t hard for Karkat to find me.”

“I’m twenty-five as well. What a crazy-random happenstance.”

John smirked. He finished his pancakes before Dave did, and after a minute of watching Dave eat, he sank down and disappeared under the table.

Dave rolled his eyes and sighed. “John, what the fuck are you—” He was stopped by the feeling of hands suddenly shifting his knees apart. Dave leaned back and looked down to see John giving him a shit-eating grin. Before Dave could say anything further, John was pulling Dave’s boxers down his thighs and kissing along his penis wetly. Dave parted his lips in a sigh as John’s hand gripped him by the base and his mouth descended over Dave’s length, sucking softly. Dave had been right: John’s lips looked a lot better around his erection than a cigarette. 


	2. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A foreword about pluripotent stem cells (if you already know what they are, feel free to continue). Stem cells are cells that have the ability to undergo numerous cell divisions without differentiating. Pluripotent stem cells can differentiate into any type of tissue in the body, but only naturally occur in embryonic stem cells.

John Egbert’s office at Seattle Genetics was a little like his home away from home. He didn’t get it all to himself, but he didn’t mind the company either. The office was divided neatly in half with a long strip of red tape stretching across the floor. The message was very clear: stay on your own side. While John’s particular sense of décor was restricted to his own side of the office, the man himself was not (much to his cohabitant’s dismay).

John’s side of the office was covered in posters from various films such as Armageddon, Deep Impact, and Little Monsters. It was a treasure trove for lovers of movies from the 80s and 90s, with a few more recent flicks caught in the clutter. Among the books and innumerable files piled on John’s desk were a framed photograph of his father and sister, a second frame containing a picture of his nana and grandpa, and finally one of John’s most prized possessions: a vintage action figure of Bill Murray as Peter Venkman in Ghostbusters. Bill’s left leg was slightly loose from an occasion when Karkat had thrown a tantrum and also Bill Murray. His leg had broken from its socket when it hit the wall, but luckily John was able to fix it and Bill was happily standing with his ghost vacuum at the ready once more.

“Hey, Karkat!” John placed a cup of coffee on his office-mate’s desk before heading to his own, dropping his messenger bag and jacket in a messy pile.

“Fucking Christ, Egbert. Would it really kill you to be a little tidier? This office is a fucking eyesore.” Karkat picked up the coffee and took a short sip, cautious after too many burnt tongues. He reading over the list of DNA samples they had collected yesterday from the aquarium. John strolled over and perched on the edge of Karkat’s desk, watching him read as he drank his own coffee.

“How many samples do you want to put through analysis and comparison today?” John asked.

“I’d say we keep it at twenty. Much more than that and the computers will shit out results at the rate of a constipated five year old.” Karkat took another sip of coffee, more at ease now. The more focused Karkat was, the easier he was to talk to, John found.

“And what about the bioluminescence experiment? Will we be checking on that today?” John looked at Karkat hopefully.

Karkat shook his head. “A potential sponsor is visiting the lab today. They’re interested in our work with viral vectors.”

“Really?!” John beamed for a moment, then his expression fell as he thought about what Dave had said yesterday. Could the sponsors be trusted with the products of their research?

“Earth to Egbert, we have shit to do.” Karkat gave him an exasperated look. “For fuck’s sake, you’re even more airheaded today than usual. I know you’re all excited because you got laid last night, but that doesn’t mean work suddenly disappeared.”

John blinked. “What makes you think I had sex last night?”

“John, please. I know the ‘just fucked’ glow when I see it, especially when it’s on you.”

John’s eyes fell to his coffee and he felt his face grow warm as he recalled exactly how Karkat knew his ‘just fucked’ look. They’d had a brief office romance before Karkat became his boss and professionalism forbade it. Things between them were strained for a number of months afterward, especially due to the fact that Karkat’s feelings had been rather stronger than John had either anticipated or returned. But alas, at this point it was a long dead topic.

“Anyway,” Karkat continued, “we’re a little too tied up with business to check on the growth of bioluminescent bacteria.”

“Okay…” John swirled his coffee and threw back the last of it before chucking the empty cup into the trashcan. “When are the sponsors coming?”

“Not immediately, so we can at least get the samples into our computer systems before they arrive. You take ten and I’ll take ten.”

The task was fairly simple by John’s standards, but he didn’t mind it. He genuinely enjoyed his job. It took two hours to finish inputting all of the DNA samples into the computer system and start the compatibility test. John and Karkat both made it back to their office with time to eat lunch before the sponsor arrived.

“Excuse me, is this Dr. Vantas and Egbert’s office?” asked a feminine voice.

John turned to the speaker. The woman looked somewhere between his and Karkat’s age and she wore a pair of asymmetrical glasses with one of the lenses blacked out. Her visible eye was grey-blue and her blonde hair cascaded down to the middle of her back. She was undeniably beautiful.

“Yes, I’m John Egbert. Karkat is just on his way back from checking on the computer system.” John couldn’t help but glance over the woman’s smart uniform. Her visitor’s tag read ‘Vriska Serket’. “Are you the potential sponsor who is interested in our work?”

“I am very interested in your work with viral vectors,” said Vriska. “After all, I am a representative from the World Health Organization.”

Holy shit. John licked his lips, trying to hide how excited he was. The World Health Organization was definitely the kind of positive backing their project needed to really get off the ground.

“Egbert, you could at least offer the woman to come in. Where the fuck are your manners?” Karkat came up behind Vriska with a huff before extending a hand to her. “I’m sorry for him; he’s a fucking idiot. I’m Vantas.”

Vriska had a slight smirk as she took in Karkat’s appearance, likely because she was taller than him, then shook his hand in return. John sniggered and Karkat threw a pen at him.

“Excellent,” said Vriska. “Where shall we start?”

 

 

The tour was fairly thorough. Karkat showed Vriska what they were currently working on with the DNA comparisons between humans and aquatic animals and a number of their previous successful experiments utilizing viral vectors, including cloning and stem cell research. Despite the constant one-sided bickering, John and Karkat worked well together. John had a problem with certain ethics, Karkat didn’t. They brainstormed ideas together and shared the preliminary research, but the viral vectors were John’s specialty. John would create the vectors and test their efficiency on bacterial cultures, then Karkat would use the vectors for secondary testing on mice. John refused to participate in the mouse trials, but the results were even better for it. Because John knew that the vectors would eventually be tested on mice, he put an effort into making them as safe as possible and ran test after test.

In his final year of university, John did a lab on induced-pluripotent stem cells. Each group was given a mouse with Alzheimer’s disease and the students had to create induced-pluripotent stem cells and inject them into the brains of their mice. The instructions for the experiment said to create the iPS cells with the genes Oct3/4, Sox2, c-Myc, and Klf4. However, John knew from their preliminary research on Yamanaka’s experiment that c-Myc and Klf4 are carcinogenic.

The night before the lab commenced, John stole his group’s mouse and read up on Yamanaka’s second iPS cell experiment in which he omitted the gene c-Myc. In this experiment, the mice did not develop cancer. John mimicked the experiment on his own, but replaced the retrovirus with an adenoviral vector to introduce Oct3/4, Sox2, and Klf4 to the mouse fibroblasts. Without c-Myc, the iPS cells took longer to cultivate and John was late handing in his lab report. John neglected to return the lab mouse as well, instead choosing to keep it as a pet.

He was heavily reprimanded, but because his experiment yielded better results, John was able to negotiate with his lab director and achieve a mark of fifty percent; a pass, but not a remarkable one. The lab director also included a note about the incident in John’s academic record. This note was also what initially attracted Karkat’s attention. Karkat Vantas was well aware of the dangerous implications of his life’s work and how it could be used. He needed someone he could trust. John Egbert was that person.

Rupert the mouse lived for another two years in John’s care with no apparent adverse effects from the experiment and passed away from natural causes. 

 

 

“Did you know that pink isn’t a real colour?” 

Dave blinked. He was glad that John was calling him after they’d slept together yesterday, but this was not exactly the greeting he was expecting. “Hello to you too, Egbert. So why isn’t pink a ‘real colour’?”

“Pink doesn’t have its own light wavelength. It’s just the human brain compensating for a colour it thinks should go between red light and purple light,” John explained. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure. Did you seriously just call me to tell me that?” Dave raised an eyebrow, holding the phone closer to his ear.

“It seemed like a good ice-breaker at the time. I guess I called so that you wouldn’t think I was forgetting about you or something.”

“Want to not forget about me this Saturday?” Dave smirked to himself.

“Oh man, making plans already? Consider me flattered.”

He laughed. “Don’t let your head get too big, sweetheart.”

“Anyway, I’m off work on Saturday, so that works.”

“I’ll see you in four days then.”

“Yeah, see you then!”

 

 

Dave pressed his face into his pillow to muffle a moan as John pushed a second finger inside of him. John was sitting on his knees behind Dave and working him open at a gradual pace that proved both to effectively stretch Dave without any pain and tease him relentlessly. Concurrently, John was trying to decide whether he should take Dave from behind or in the missionary position. On the one hand, John was fascinated by the combination of Dave’s red eyes, dark brows, and white-blond hair; he had never seen albinism manifest so dramatically in a human specimen. To complete the otherworldly look, Dave’s bone structure was sharp and angular. On the other hand, the idea of dominating Dave really appealed to him.

“You should let me take a sample of your DNA,” said John absently as he curled his fingers.

Dave groaned and turned his head to the side so that he could respond. “Why do you want one?”

“You have red eyes and your hair is almost white; are you really asking me this?”     

Dave chuckled, then gasped as John added a third finger. “And how are you planning on acquiring this sample?”

“I could always just use your semen.” John grinned. “Okay, that’s a lie. Sperm cells only have twenty-three individual chromosomes. That only tells me half of what I want to know.”

“And what do you want to know?”

John pressed his lips to Dave’s lower back and murmured, “Everything.”

Dave couldn’t help but snicker. “Please tell me you didn’t say that with a straight face.”

“Nope! But really there are only a few specific genes that I would have to look at. I’m still interested.” John twisted his fingers inside of Dave, making him curse. “Anyone else in your family have the same mutation?”

“Don’t know about my dad, but my mom’s eyes are pink—ah!” John’s fingers had pressed in deeper. “Rose’s eyes are purple, and Dirk’s the most normal of all of us as far as eye colour goes. His are orange. Didn’t save him from the Asperger’s though. I guess it was a trade-off: somewhat normal eyes for the price of social grace.”

“Speaking of being social, aren’t you a little too talkative for a guy with three fingers up his ass?” John wiggled his fingers a little in emphasis.

Dave turned his head to meet John’s eyes, smirking. “Then maybe you should do something about that.”

John’s grin widened and he removed his fingers, wiping them carelessly on the bedspread as his free hand reached for the condom on Dave’s nightstand. He stroked himself a little, though it was somewhat redundant with how hard he already was from fingering Dave. Soon, the foil package had been torn open and its contents rolled over John’s erection. With the addition of lubricant, John was easily pushing inside of Dave with a low hum.

Dave was no porn star but he was noisier than John, unabashedly squirming in order to achieve a better angle of penetration. John kissed Dave’s shoulders before he placed a hand on the center of his back, pushing Dave’s cheek against the pillow. As a man of science, John took his time in experimenting with varying speeds and degrees of roughness, sometimes thrusting hard and fast, and other times slow and gentle. He took his cues from which actions made Dave more vocal. Hard and fast seemed to suit Dave best. John ran his hands over Dave’s sides and beneath his torso to feel his chest and stomach. He could happily waste an entire day touching Dave. But soon Dave was coming with a moan of John’s name, and with a few stuttered jerks of his hips, he was following.

Dave’s knees worked their way out from beneath his body so that he could lay flat on his stomach, and John laid on top of him, wrapping his arms around Dave’s waist. He kissed the back of Dave’s neck and shoulders happily, saturated with post-coital hormones. Dave sighed contentedly, and on an impulse John raised a hand to tilt up Dave’s chin, leaning around him to kiss his lips softly. A little longer and John pulled out of Dave, throwing the used condom into the trash. John laid down on his side this time, pulling Dave’s body against his to spoon him.

“Gross,” Dave grunted.

“What’s gross?”

“You being all affectionate and shit. When are you going to propose?”

John flicked Dave’s stomach and nuzzled his hair. “If you don’t recall, last time you were snuggling up to me like a Disney animal.”

“I was just using you as a pillow.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Dave turned over in John’s arms and they kissed slowly and languidly. The relaxed pace was welcome after the rougher sex. Eventually the kisses trailed off and they fell asleep. John was the first to wake an hour later and he spent several minutes watching Dave sleep. He let his fingertips trail over the pale skin and watched the steady rise and fall of Dave’s chest. He wondered absently what time it was.

“Do you watch all of your partners sleep, you fucking creep?” Dave spoke without opening his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s some Edward Cullen shit right there.”

John chuckled. “Only the hot ones.”

Dave hummed in approval, tilting his head to the side as John began kissing his neck.

“I have some awesome news,” said John.

“Mm?”

 “Karkat and I got our first sponsor outside of Seattle Genetics!” John couldn’t help the smile on his face. “And it’s the World Health Organization!”

Dave bit his lip. “Yeah?” He guessed the WHO was reasonably trustable, even if their acronym made him think of the band from the 60s.

“Now we can actually get something real accomplished with our research!”

John sounded so excited that Dave had to peck his lips. “I’m sure that you will develop all sorts of crazy shit. Cure cancer and kiss babies when you’re famous. Win the Nobel Prize.”

“Now you’re just messing with me.”

“I know.”

“I’m hungry. Want food?”

“Better not make fucking pancakes again. I’m going to start thinking that’s all you _can_ make.”

John chuckled. “Nah. Not this time.” John flicked Dave’s stomach and got up, putting on his glasses. John was just about to exit the bedroom when he paused, looking at the unpacked contents of Dave’s shelf. “You filthy fucking liar. You never told me you were into biology.”

“That’s not biology,” Dave quipped. “They’re all dead and shit. Dead like my mother’s dreams of becoming a grandparent.”

“You never told me you were into necrophilia.”

Dave threw a pillow at John, who laughed.

“Dead like your sex life from now on.”

John gave Dave the middle finger, blue eyes flashing mischievously. “Liar.” Before Dave could retaliate, he hurried from the room, still naked.

 

 

Vriska Serket toyed with a pair of blue eight-sided dice as she sat on the edge of her colleague’s desk.

“The World Health Organization is officially backing the research of vector viruses,” she said triumphantly.

“That was a bold move even for you, Serket,” said her companion. “You know that they view it as a high-risk topic.”

Vriska smirked to herself. “I guess I’m just lucky.”

“Yeah, well your luck better hold out. If you fuck this up, we’re going to have our asses handed to us on a silver platter.” The man pushed back his hair, eyebrows furrowing.

“Ye of little faith.” Vriska gave the dice a squeeze.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments. Just saying.


	3. Contamination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pchoo!

“You should ride me like the cowboy you always wanted to be as a child,” said John as he watched Dave finger himself.

Dave snorted. “What makes you think I wanted to be a cowboy?”

John stroked Dave’s thigh absently. “You’re from Texas; it’s obligatory.”

Dave chuckled and removed his fingers from himself, wiping them on the sheets before he rolled a condom onto John’s length and straddled his hips. “Actually, you’re wrong.” John moaned as Dave sank down onto him. “I wanted to be a truck driver.”

Cowboy or truck driver, Dave was good at this. He rocked his hips steadily and picked up the speed in gradual increments that enhanced the overall pleasure. John rested his hands on Dave’s hips more to anchor himself than anything else at first, but toward the end he held Dave just slightly above him so that he could thrust hard into him.

Afterward, Dave remained sitting astride John and drew patterns on his stomach with his semen. It had been four weeks since they’d first met and John was starting to get used to Dave’s quirks. Three weeks since John’s and Karkat’s work acquired sponsorship. With the funding, they were able to afford better equipment and more supplies for John to create and test vectors. Vriska came by often to check on their progress; he understood that their research was a high risk topic, so it didn’t really bother him. Of course the World Health Organization would want to monitor their work and make sure that everything was safely controlled.

“Are you seriously thinking about work while your dick is still in me?”

John blinked and smiled guiltily at Dave, who was giving him a rather indignant look. “Sorry.”

Dave rolled his hips once, making John gasp from the over-sensitivity. “We should talk about something cool. Like rimming. What are your thoughts on rimming?”

“Hmm,” John pursed his lips as he thought. “I’ve never done it or had it done to me, and I’m not sure if I really want to. I mean in theory it sounds like it could be a pleasurable experience, but in theory it also sounds really nasty. I mean it’s your butt. You poop from there.”

“I was hesitant about it at first too, but trust me, it’s really great.” Dave grinned. “I’m curious; how many guys have you been with?”

John didn’t have to think about this one. “You are the third.”

“Am I the best?”

“You’re better than the first guy, definitely. As for the second…” John wrinkled his nose. “Well, I’d need to collect more data for comparison.”

“Who was guy number two?”

John flushed a little. “Karkat, actually.”

Dave laughed. “No fucking way! You mean your shouty boss? That is fucking golden.”

“He wasn’t my boss at the time!” John protested. “That was actually the reason we broke up. When he was promoted, we agreed that it would be inappropriate to continue our relationship. He wanted to protect his integrity as an authority figure and he wanted to protect my integrity as a scientist so that people wouldn’t think that any advancement in my career was gained through the merit of anything other than my work.”

“Makes sense,” Dave conceded. “But you’re still getting rimmed next time.”

“Fiiiine!”

Dave got off of John and discarded the used condom.

“So when are we going to do the ‘buddy’ part?” asked John.

“What do you mean?”

“Well we’re fuck buddies right? But all we really do is the fuck part and also talk about ourselves sometimes. We should just hang out.”

Dave mulled it over before giving a shrug. “Sure. I’ve got nowhere to go today. Want to watch a movie?”

“Hell yes!” John beamed.

They redressed before going to the living room. Dave ordered pizza and John placed a bag of popcorn into the microwave.

“We should watch Jurassic Park,” said John.

“Fuck no. We’re watching Shrek,” said Dave.

John groaned and gave Dave a look. “Really?”

“Dude, don’t fucking diss Shrek. He’s my best fucking friend in spirit. ‘Ogres are like onions’ is basically my life motto.” Dave plucked the DVD off the shelf and placed the disc in his Xbox 360. “When I was a kid, ‘ogres are like onions’ is what got me through the day when I was pushed down and bullied. Shrek is love. Shrek is life.”

“ _Were_ you pushed down and bullied?” John asked with some concern.

“Fuck no.”

John heard a slightly false note in his voice. Perhaps he’d ask Dave about it sometime, but for now it was time to watch an old classic. They both cracked jokes as they watched the film and John found himself laughing easily. Dave was a natural at keeping the conversation flowing, even if he was just rambling off on tangents and making extravagant euphemisms. The pizza arrived twenty minutes into the movie, which they then subsequently consumed.

“I was always really jealous of Donkey,” said Dave as the movie continued. “I mean, he has a fucking dragon as his girlfriend. I wish I had a dragon girlfriend. And they totally banged too. His mutant kids show up in the second movie, for fuck’s sake. God, I’m jealous. Why can’t I have mutant dragon babies?”

“With my dick, you may as well be fucking a dragon.” John wiggled his eyebrows and Dave snickered.

“Yeah, a baby one maybe.”

A brief wrestling match ensued. It ended with Dave sitting comfortably on the couch and John sprawled across him. It was comfortable and felt natural to both of them.

“This is fun,” said John. “We should do it more often.”

Dave hummed in agreement. After the movie, they played a few rounds of Call of Duty. Dave was terrible at it.

“Dave, what the fuck? You _own_ this game; how can you suck this much?” John complained as he melee killed Dave’s character for the eleventh time.

“John, you do not understand my methods,” Dave explained. “By my standards, I am actually winning and you are losing miserably.”

John made a sound of frustration and threw his controller down on the couch as Dave’s character committed suicide with a grenade. “Fuck this game! Let’s play something else.”

Dave exited the game session and brought the screen back to the main menu before turning to face John. “Sure. What do you want to play?”

John grinned and grabbed Dave’s rear with both hands, squeezing hard. “Call of Booty.”

Dave snickered. “You should let me play with your ass this time. It’s my turn.”

“So we’re taking turns now, are we?” John smirked. “Okay.” He stood up and removed his clothes. Dave’s eyes roved over John’s body appreciatively.

“Face down and ass up, sweet cheeks.” Dave slapped John’s bottom lightly and got up to retrieve lubricant and a condom. John got onto the couch and followed Dave’s instructions, wiggling a little. Dave bit his lip at the sight when he returned, setting down the supplies before he ran his hands up the backs of John’s thighs and over his buttocks. “You have the most beautiful ass,” he said as he slapped John’s rear again.

“Why thank you.” John’s smug smirk disappeared the moment Dave’s hand came down again, replaced by an expression of sexual bliss. Dave spanked each side four times, then squeezed and rubbed at the reddening flesh. It didn’t take long for John to become erect.

Dave removed his shades and used both hands to massage John’s rear. “Yo, John, did your astrophysicist sister tell you about the new planetary probe they sent into space?”

“Can’t say I’m familiar with it,” John said, resting his cheek on his arms.

“Well it’s supposed to land on Uranus in like, T minus two seconds.” Dave leaned in.

“I don’t know what you’re— _Oh my god!_ ” John shivered as he felt Dave’s tongue draw a line from his perineum to his tailbone.

Dave chuckled. “Not so bad now is it?”

“Do it again.”

Dave did, teasing the sensitive flesh with his tongue. John was soon gasping for breath, body shifting. He was wonderfully receptive to the stimulation. When John was a shuddering mess, Dave finally freed his own erection from his pants and began to finger John with practiced movements. Soon again, Dave was pressing inside of John and they were moving together. After they were both spent, Dave laid back and pulled John with him so that they were laying together as they caught their breath.

“So how was that?” Dave asked with a satisfied smirk.

“Fucking awesome,” John breathed.

“Would you like to do it to me sometime?”

“Mm, I don’t know about _that…_ ”

Dave made a sound of mock-hurt. “How can you tell me you love me when you won’t even eat my poop?”

John laughed and swatted Dave’s arm.  

 

 

Karkat carefully inspected the two specimens in front of him. The two samples were identical but for one factor: one of the subjects had been introduced intimately to a series of genes that caused the mouse’s body to cease estrogen production, effectively sterilizing her. Or in theory that was what it was supposed to do. Karkat was comparing the DNA samples from the test subject and the control in hopes of confirming the hypothesis. If the vector had done its job properly, the genes should have saturated the mouse’s cells by now. Finding the sequence, if it was there, wouldn’t be too difficult; John had written down the genes in order with an approximation of where they should show up so that Karkat would have an easier time locating them.

This was the fifth attempt at the same experiment and the second attempt since the WHO began sponsoring their work. Karkat wasn’t sure why they were suddenly interested now, but he wasn’t about to look a money horse in the mouth either, especially when that money horse was helping to keep his life’s work alive.

Karkat was no fool. He knew exactly why the World Health Organization had stayed away from his research for years. All it took was one mutant gene. One of the most common causes of cystic fibrosis is the deletion of three nucleotides, the code that produces the amino acid phenylalanine at the 508th position on the CFTR protein. One fuck up in one person, and now thirty thousand people in the United States have been diagnosed with it. That was from an accidental mutation in a recessive trait. Karkat could only imagine the damage that would be caused if a harmful mutation was created intentionally and allowed to propagate among the human race.

As the genes trailed on, Karkat found himself skimming them more than analyzing him. He couldn’t afford the time to give every sequence more than a cursory glance. Karkat paused when he saw a familiar set of genes—he glanced down at the paper John had given him—that was it. That was John’s sequence. A grin spread across Karkat’s lips despite himself and he took a snapshot of the results on the computer. He got up and hurried back toward the office.

“John! John, get your voluptuous ass over here! Something amazing has—” Karkat froze when he came face to face not with his colleague, but with Vriska Serket. The corner of Vriska’s mouth lifted in what Karkat could only describe as a predatory grin.

“Have you had a breakthrough, Vantas?” Vriska asked.

Karkat suddenly felt defensive. His thirtieth birthday was quickly approaching, and yet for some reason this woman intimidated him. He trusted the World Health Organization, but Vriska Serket rubbed him the wrong way, like a particle that didn’t follow the gradient. Karkat crossed his arms and leveled his signature scowl at her. “Where the fuck is Egbert?”

“John is getting coffee,” said Vriska. “He should be back soon.”

There was a pang of annoyance; since when did Vriska call John by his first name? The way she said it made Karkat’s spine prickle with controlled anger.

“Fine,” Karkat snapped. “I’ll just clean up the lab and show Egbert the results later.”

He was just about to leave when he heard John’s cheerful voice call, “Hey, Karkat! What do you want to show me?”

Karkat turned back around and there he was, handing Vriska a cup of coffee and sipping at his own, an idiotic grin across his face.

“Why the fuck do you always have to wander off at the most inopportune moments? Come with me; you have to see this.” Karkat grabbed John’s wrist firmly and tugged him along. As an afterthought, he shouted over his shoulder to Vriska, “And don’t you fucking follow us!”

John chuckled at Karkat’s enthusiasm. “Jeez, Karkat. Are you going to pull me into a supply closet and make out with me or something?”

“Just shut the fuck up.” Karkat felt his face burn. When they arrived at the lab, Karkat gestured toward the computer screen. “Congratulations, John. Your genetic code has successfully been integrated into the subject’s. All that’s left is to artificially inseminate her to make sure that the body has completely ceased estrogen production.”

John all but fell onto the desk, eyes drinking in the results on the computer screen as if he was a man dying of thirst. Slowly, an enormous smile stretched across his face and he turned to Karkat and Jesus _Christ_ , his smile could have simultaneously stolen and broken the hearts of a thousand men and women and Karkat found himself breathless in the wake of it.

“We did it!” John exclaimed in an excited whisper. “Holy shit, Karkat! We fucking did it!”

And then Karkat was literally breathless because John had enveloped him in a crushing embrace. After some compulsory cursing, Karkat finally allowed himself to hug John in return, a demure smile making its way onto his features.

“No,” said Karkat, hugging John tighter. “ _You_ did it.”

 

 

Though John’s organizational skills could not be called stellar, he was meticulous in keeping records of his work and listing every single step of his procedures in painstaking detail; a habit instilled in him by a combination of university and Karkat Vantas. As such, John was not entirely surprised when he misplaced the file that described the process of creating the viral vector that had produced positive results in Karkat’s mouse trials over the last few weeks. However, when he didn’t find it in the next three folders, he became worried.

“Oh my fucking god, John. You are such a goddamn _idiot!_ ” Karkat hissed. “How the fuck are we supposed to present these results when we don’t have the fucking procedure?!”

“I’m so sorry, Karkat! I swear I’ll find them!” John said frantically, and in his haste to set aside another file, he knocked the rest of the pile onto the floor. Karkat groaned in agony and John flitted about, trying haplessly to look through the files as he returned them to their folders.

“This is why I make digital copies, John! _Digital copies!_ The future is fucking now and you’re still bumbling about in the Stone Age like a fucking Neanderthal!” After shouting more abuse at John, Karkat finally went over to John’s atrocious workspace to help him search for the file. When the next two hours of searching produced no success, John felt his hopes sinking. He knew that he could remember all of the major details of what he’d done, but the minute tweaking could take weeks to perfect again. John’s phone began ringing and he picked up, hoping that someone had magically found his file.

“Yo, John.”

John deflated; it was Dave. “Hey, Dave. What’s up?”

“I could ask you the same thing, seeing as you were supposed to be here half an hour ago so that we could watch The Mask,” said Dave with a slightly accusatory tone.

“Shit! Dave, I’m so sorry!” John floundered. “I kind of lost something really important and Karkat and I have been searching for it all over.”

“What did you lose?” Suddenly, Dave sounded intrigued.

John glanced at Karkat, as if asking for permission, before he said, “One of my vectors worked and now we can’t find the write-up I did on the procedure so that we can recreate it.”

“Well when’s the last time you saw it?” asked Dave.

“Three days ago after the final mouse trial, which is why this is so weird; because the file _should_ have been in the top folder when I was looking for it, since it’s so recent.”

“Has anyone been poking around your office who might have filched it?”

“No, nobody! The only people who spend any time in our office are me, Karkat, and the representative from the World Health Organization.”   

There was a pause from Dave’s end. “Tell you what: keep looking for the file and we can have movie night tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks. And I’m _really_ sorry, Dave! God, I’m such an idiot,” John said dejectedly.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Dave reassured him. “Just worry about finding your work. You know, you really should keep digital copies of that shit, man. It’s way more convenient. It’s not like we’re in the Stone Age anymore and you have to scratch everything into rocks.”

John chuckled half-heartedly. “You know, Karkat said the exact same thing.”

“Gross. Don’t compare me to your obnoxious boss.”

There was a more genuine laugh from John’s end and Dave hung up.

 

 

Dave’s journalist senses were tingling.

He hadn’t exactly lied when he told John that he mainly wrote critique articles, but he hadn’t been exactly truthful either; it was a necessary lie of omission so that John wouldn’t freak out. Dave had followed a few big stories before. Journalism suited Dave. He liked to know what was going on and he wasn’t afraid of the risk factor when things got heated. He was good with people, and good at acquiring information. But most of all, he knew when a big story was coming.

Professionally, Dave was itching to write about John’s work, but realistically he knew that it wasn’t information that should be publicized. It would draw the wrong type of attention to John’s research, and that wasn’t what he wanted to do to his friend. Nevertheless, Dave could feel that something important was happening, and it revolved around the breakthrough in John’s and Karkat’s research.

Dave didn’t trust the representative from the World Health Organization. If a simple journalist like Dave knew the risks of John’s work, then surely the WHO knew how dangerous it was. Figuring out that the risks far outweighed the benefits wasn’t rocket science. You would have to be pretty stupid to think otherwise. As such, it seemed rather counter-intuitive for the WHO to take any sort of interest in John’s work aside from trying to shut it down.

Something definitely wasn’t right with this situation, and Dave was determined to figure out what exactly it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be temporarily pausing from writing this. I really need to update my fic Speechless, but I had to do a science binge. Updates will be slower from now on.


	4. Incubation

Seattle Genetics, unfortunately, was not exactly the easiest place for Dave to scout without making himself look suspicious. It wouldn’t be the first time Dave had been arrested while investigating a story a little too closely, but if he had learned anything from his past experiences it was to trust his gut instinct, and his gut was telling him that if he was arrested here and now, he was fucked, and maybe all of Washington State was fucked too. He really didn’t want to fuck over Washington State.

When John had talked about Seattle Genetics, for some reason Dave always pictured an office building in the middle of the city. That was not the case. Seattle Genetics was located in a sprawling complex out of the way of the inner city, closer to the suburbs. The buildings all looked industrial and as far as Dave could tell, the majority of them were research facilities or medical centers. A long, twisting road took Dave to a smaller complex with ten buildings. Three buildings were located to the left of the road and the other seven were on the right side. Dave pulled into a parking lot at the Molina Healthcare center.

The complex was big, and it would definitely be a pain in the ass to look around on foot. Dave got out of his car and locked it before heading over to the Molina Healthcare center. It appeared to be a pharmacy when Dave stepped in. A brunette woman in her mid-thirties looked up at Dave as he entered.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?” she looked friendly, but confused. Shit. What if it wasn’t actually a pharmacy? Dave decided to play it cool.

“I was wondering if you could point me out to Seattle Genetics? I have a friend who works there and I was supposed to pick him up since his car is in the shop.” He laughed easily, deciding that meek was the way to go.

The woman’s posture immediately relaxed and her polite smile became more genuine. “Ah yes, I had a hell of a time navigating around here when I first started out. You’ll want to drive to the south end of the parking lot and head straight down the road intersection 30th. Seattle Genetics will be to your right at the end there.”

“Thanks,” said Dave. He gave the woman a nod before heading out again. Thank you, human kindness. Dave got back into his car and pulled into the lot at the farthest building. He didn’t get out of his car this time, instead reclining back into his seat to keep an eye on the front entrance. It was less eventful than Dave anticipated, and he hadn’t anticipated much. There was basically no action for the next three hours. Dave absently texted his sister, Rose, and even Bro while he waited. Twice, an employee came or went, but none of them had the asymmetrical glasses John had mentioned. In retrospect, it was extremely lucky that the mole in Seattle Genetics had a unique feature. He wondered if she even really worked for the World Health Organization.

It was around six in the evening when the Vriska Serket with her asymmetrical glasses emerged from the building. Dave was about to sit up in his seat when he caught sight of John next to her. Shit. Dave remained uncomfortably hunched as he watched the two of them walk through the parking lot, chattering animatedly. He hoped that he would be able to see Serket’s license plate from his vantage point as she and John parted ways. In the end he didn’t need to, because they were both getting into John’s car. This complicated matters, but he could work with it.

Dave waited fifteen minutes after John’s car had left the parking lot before he texted him, then he started his own car again. He drove out of the complex and made his way through the industrial expanse, returning to the more familiar urban streets of Seattle. Dave chose a MacDonald’s at random and pulled into the parking lot to wait for John to text back. He only had to wait two minutes.

**JOHN :** **hey, dave! i was just going out for coffee with vriska before i drive her home. her place is on the way back to my apartment, so i offered to carpool. :)**

Dave would have to kiss John thoroughly later.

**DAVE : sweet where are you taking this beautiful damsel? better be some top of the line coffee young man i raised you better than this**

**JOHN : i took her to the starbucks we went to after seeing iron man 3 together. do you approve?**

**DAVE : i am shocked and appalled that you took her to OUR date spot. how could you play with a girls heart like that? thought we had something special**

**JOHN : cry me a river, fucknozzle. <3**

Dave snorted and started up his car again. He mentally apologized to John because he was about to crash his date.

 

 

While Dave was at Starbucks, he decided to indulge in a chai tea latte as a pre-emptive reward for a good job done. He scanned the tables in the café and soon caught sight of John’s mop of black hair. He was using wild gesticulations as he talked to Vriska and his expression was open and friendly. The corner of Dave’s mouth lifted as he walked over to their table casually and leaned against the side of the booth Vriska was seated in.

“Sup, ladies. Is there room for one more?” he asked.

John spluttered as he looked up at Dave. “Dude, what are you doing here?!”

“Drinking a latte. What does it look like I’m doing?” Dave made a show of noticing Vriska, as if he hadn’t seen her sitting there before. “Say, quite the pretty lady friend you got there, Egbert. Mind introducing us?”

John slapped his palm to his forehead. “Ugh. Dave, this is Vriska. Vriska, this is—”

Dave slid into the booth next to John smoothly and reached across the table to take one of Vriska’s hands in his. “Dave Strider. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Vriska smirked, seeming amused at John’s palpable embarrassment. “You seem pretty cool yourself. I’m digging the shades; makes it look like you’ve got a secret.”

Dave wiggled his eyebrows. “Ditch this loser and come back to my apartment with me and all will be revealed. And I do mean _all._ ”

John gaped at Dave, looking scandalized. A mask of composure hid his anger moments later and John said between gritted teeth, “I have to use the bathroom.”

“Of course, bro.” Dave stood to allow John past him. Dave was absolutely positive that John bumped his shoulder on purpose. He sighed dramatically as he sat down again. “Sorry about that. So how do you know John?”

“I’ve been overseeing John’s work as an interested party,” said Vriska. She seemed completely unphazed by John’s and Dave’s exchange. “My group is sponsoring his work, so I just report if there are any promising results. You know how these large organizations are about pinching their pennies; they want to make sure they’re getting their money’s worth out of their investments.” She tossed her long, blonde hair lazily.

“Well if you would like to make an investment of your time for the night, you should swing by my place at nine o’clock.” Dave placed a card on the table in front of Vriska with his address and cellphone number written on it. “I’m sure you will find it worthwhile.”

Vriska made no attempt to hide that she was checking Dave out, and from the predatory smile on her face, she seemed to like what she saw. “I’m sure I will.” She picked up the card and read over it before slipping it into her pocket.

Dave grinned. “Cool. I’ll see you tonight then. Now I should probably head out before John kills me for macking on his date. Whatever. He snoozed. He loosed. Or lost, if you’re the type who goes for grammatical accuracy.”

“I’ll see you then,” said Vriska.

Dave felt triumphant as he got up and exited the Starbucks, throwing back the last of his latte. That was easier than he thought.

 

 

Dave’s parents split up when he and his twin sister, Rose, were three years old. His mother took back her maiden name, Lalonde, and his father moved back to Houston, Texas. Despite the divorce, his father still made an effort to be fairly involved in the lives of his children. He sent gifts for birthdays and Christmases, and every summer, he drove up to New York to take the kids down to Texas for the holidays. Dirk was enamored by their father, which years later would inspire him to attend university in Houston so that he could live with him. It was only natural that Dave, who practically worshipped the ground his older brother walked on, would go with him to finish up middle school.

But Dave’s most vivid memories of the summers spent with his dad were when they all sat in the living room as a family to watch James Bond movies. By this point in time, James Bond movies were already a longstanding tradition established within the Strider household, and it was always guaranteed that Dad and Dirk would know every single line in the old movies and could predict every twist in the new ones. Their knowledge of the James Bond franchise was so thorough that for half of Dave’s childhood, he was convinced that his father and brother were secret agents for the queen of England.

Dave was fascinated by Bond. He envied Bond’s martial arts skills and was awed by his ability to charm pretty girls into rolling around in bed with him without their clothes on. It would be years before Dave ever heard of Casanova.

Real life, however, was nothing like the Bond movies of Dave’s childhood.

Dave never made it back to his apartment.

One second, Dave was driving through an intersection four blocks away from his apartment building; the next, lights out.  

Dave’s body was a mass of pain when he regained consciousness. He groaned, tasting blood in his mouth. He was pretty sure the entire left side of his body was bruised and his head felt like smashed asshole. He pushed himself into a sitting position with shaking hands to take inventory: he definitely had a concussion of unknown severity; his ribs were bruised badly, cracked in a worst case scenario; his shades were demolished; his nose was broken; his lower lip was busted; he was pretty sure his head was bleeding; and his left leg was pinned between the seat and the buckled car door. For one terrifying moment, Dave thought that he would discover that his leg was crushed and useless. They would need to use the Jaws of Life to extract him from the vehicle. But upon further inspection Dave found that he was able to wiggle his foot, and with some effort he managed to worm his leg out of the tight space.

Assured that he wasn’t in immediate peril, Dave surveyed his surroundings. Snug up against the left side of his car was the demolished hood of a black Ford Focus. Smoke seeped out from the hood of his own car pitifully. People were just getting out of their cars and taking out their cellphones; no police or ambulance had arrived yet, so Dave must have only been unconscious for a minute or two.

Without warning, Dave was overwhelmed with a wave of paranoia that sent him scrambling to the passenger seat of his car to pull up the lock on the door. He nearly did a face-plant in his haste to get out of the wreckage and he ran, limping, to an open alleyway, shoving past concerned bystanders. Just like Dave trusted his gut instinct when investigating a potential story, he trusted it now when it told him he needed to get as far away from the accident as possible before—before what? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his instincts were screaming at him to run.

As far as fitness went Dave was in excellent shape, but between the pain in his ribs and the adrenaline still spiking through his system, he was panting for breath by the time he reached his apartment building. He all but threw himself into the elevator and slapped at the button for the third floor, heart racing as he waited for the doors to close. Only then did he finally slump into the corner, digging in his pocket for his keys and cellphone. A large crack now ran down the screen of Dave’s phone. He was just glad that there was no crack running through his spine. Dave dragged himself down the hallway to his door and fumbled with the lock before stepping inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a chill went up Dave’s spine. Softening his footsteps, he made his way into the living room to retrieve the katana from the daisho pair mounted on his wall. There was a faint sound to Dave’s right and he dropped to the floor, and not a moment too soon. With a dull thud, a knife imbedded itself into the wall above his prone body. Okay. So someone was definitely trying to assassinate him and they were not fucking around. Dave propped himself in a crouch, ignoring the pain in his body and the fear battering his mind. Growing up, he and Dirk had always sparred with shitty swords like they were samurais; he never thought that the skill would actually come in handy.

“You know, you shouldn’t throw knives around, dude,” said Dave sardonically. Much to his relief, his voice came out steady. “Someone could get hurt.”

There was a flash, and Dave spun around with his katana in time to parry the blade, this time wielded in hand by a man. The strange man looked like a typical Bond villain. He was dressed in an all-black suit and his dark hair was slicked back beneath a fedora. His eyes glinted pale grey and his canine teeth looked abnormally sharp as he grinned. Dave couldn’t help but to bark a laugh.

“Man, this is so fucking cliché. Like, you literally look like you walked off the set of The Godfather,” he said.

The man just pulled out a second knife and swung at Dave’s hand. Dave jerked backward and waved the sword in front of himself to swat the knives away. What Dave really needed was a way out. By now there could be more people on the way up to his apartment, so he couldn’t go back through the entrance. In his brief moment of distraction, the man swept Dave’s feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. The man had a manic look about him as he smiled down at Dave.

“It was fun while it lasted, sweetheart. Now it’s time to see what you look like on the inside,” said the man as he beared down on Dave.

Panicking, Dave lashed out with his sword and he heard the man let out a pained hiss. Wasting no time, Dave lurched to his feet and ran to the screen door to his apartment balcony, stumbling out onto the pavement. He dropped the sword and climbed over the railing, perching on the very edge. About six feet out and five feet down, there was a coniferous tree growing next to the apartment building—Dave could never tell the difference between a pine tree and a spruce tree. What Dave did know was that coniferous trees had a metric shit ton of branches. Branches that could potentially help break his three-storey decent. From inside the apartment, Dave heard the shouts of his attacker growing louder. It was now or never.

Dave made a leap of faith.

The funny thing about faith is that the entire concept is based on conviction without substantiating evidence. As such, faith often isn’t worth shit.

The first branch Dave hit knocked the breath out of him, and if his ribs weren’t cracked before, they most probably were now. Gasping for air, Dave fell from the branch and hit the next cluster, spinning him around and bruising his shins. The back of his head, arms, back, ribs, head again, legs. By the time Dave hit the ground, he was pretty sure he knew what if felt like to be in the Fight Club, and he was certain that he would never speak of it again.

Dave would have liked to lie there at the base of the tree for the next few hours or weeks, but through the haze of the pain, his brain was still screaming that there were people trying to kill him. Lungs burning with exhaustion, Dave forced himself to his feet and sprinted to the road. Dave hailed a taxi with a hoarse voice and dropped into the backseat.

“Sir, would you like me to drive you to the hospital?” asked the driver with concern as he took in Dave’s state.

Dave shook his head and blurted out the first address he thought of as he shoved bills into the driver’s hand. To his credit, the taxi driver looked like he wanted to argue, but Dave was already too disoriented to make any coherent response now that he was no longer facing imminent death. Head spinning, unconsciousness came as a sweet relief to Dave, and so he didn't fight it as he slipped beneath those dark waves, sinking into the depths. 


	5. Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made the best typo ever when I was writing this chapter.   
> "For a minute, the science clung to them like a disease."  
> God, I love science.   
> I also love you guys. Thank you for the support.

“Oh _hell_ no.” John’s voice was resolute, like an unmovable mountain with a side dish of pissed off. “You do not get to do this. Just because a girl bailed on you—a girl _I_ was taking out for coffee!!—doesn’t mean you can come crawling to me for sex. Fuck you, Dave. Fuck you forever.”

“John, this isn’t about sex!” Dave protested. John could hear him panting over the intercom. “I am ready to drop; just unlock the stupid fucking door.”

John’s finger hovered over the button and he pictured Dave standing in the foyer of the apartment building, looking increasingly irritated as John withheld his compliance. The prospect of leaving Dave to stew a little longer was certainly appealing, but there was a sense of urgency in Dave’s tone almost as if he was frightened. John had never known Dave to be anything but infallible, so the idea of him being _afraid_ was an unnerving one for John. After only a brief moment of hesitation, John pressed the button to unlock the apartment door.

He thought about going as far as to meet Dave on his way up, but he decided that he wasn’t that charitable. After all, Dave had still tried to sleep with _his_ temporary co-worker. When the knock came on John’s door five minutes later, he was tempted to leave Dave hanging for another minute, but the memory of Dave’s unsteady voice drew John’s hand to the door.

John was not sure what he was expecting when he opened the door, but this was not it. His jaw dropped. Dave’s eyes were wide, bare, and circled with the telltale bruises of a broken nose and there was smeared and drying blood all over the lower half of his face. There was a messy scrape on the side of his forehead and his clothing was torn and dirty. From the awkward angle they were hanging at, it looked like Dave’s left ring and pinkie finger were broken.

“Holy shit… What the fuck happened to you?” John meant to put it more eloquently than that, but in the shock of the moment the words just slipped out. Ignoring the question, Dave shoved his way past John and headed toward the bathroom.

“Book a hotel room for us and pack a bag. Also, be a dear and let me borrow some clean clothes,” Dave said as he went. John gaped at him.

“Dude, what the hell?! We’re friends who fuck; I’m not _eloping_ with you!” John cried indignantly, but Dave didn’t say anything to that either, just shut the bathroom door behind him. John murmured curses under his breath as he turned on his laptop to find hotels close to Seattle Genetics. If Dave wanted to play fugitives that was fine by him, but John had responsibilities. John picked the cheapest hotel he could out of spite and called in to make a one night reservation for a room with two beds—also out of spite, albeit John didn’t think Dave would be up for much anyway.

John was in the midst of packing when Dave emerged from the bathroom and joined him in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Though Dave was no longer bloodied he looked even worse with his clothes off, his injuries bared for John to see. The entire left side of Dave’s body was black and blue, particularly his ribs and his leg where there were some puncture wounds near the knee. Dave strode over to John’s dresser and plucked out a pair of boxers to wear, hissing out a pained breath as he tried to bend down to put them on. That was it; this was too painful to watch.

“Dave, get on the bed,” John said in a firm voice.

Dave was too exhausted to argue. As soon as he was seated, John took the boxers that were balled up in his hand and helped him to put them on, then set his hands on Dave’s shoulders.

“Lay down,” he instructed. Dave did so with a groan. John’s right hand slid down and very gently pressed along Dave’s ribs, checking to make sure none were broken.

“If you’re done playing nurse, we need to get the fuck out of dodge pronto,” Dave mumbled. John sighed with disapproval, but his better instincts were telling him to listen to Dave right now; answers could come later. He helped Dave get dressed and finished packing clothes, toiletries, his laptop, and his charger into his duffel bag. Dave was uncharacteristically silent as John helped him down to his car, but John attributed it to Dave’s general state of disarray. He frowned as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“Crushed beyond repair in an intersection,” Dave deadpanned.

John froze with his keys in the ignition, feeling the blood leave his face. He wasn’t even going to touch that one yet. Pursing his lips, John started the car and drove them to the hotel in silence. When John pulled into the parking lot and retrieved his duffel bag and his work bag (which was really just an ordinary backpack), Dave took him by the shoulder and started leading him away from the hotel.

John made an exasperated noise. “ _Now_ where are we going?”

“To a motel down the block,” Dave answered.

John stopped. All the blood that had left his face earlier and more now rushed back with a vengeance. “ _Then why the fuck did I book this hotel?!!_ ”

“Decoy.” Dave just tugged John along, surprising him with his strength. John stumbled along beside him, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was cursing Dave up and down. They were halfway to the end of the block when there was a loud crash behind them and black smoke billowed into the sky, seeming to originate from the hotel parking lot. John whipped around and made a rather spectacular impression of a goldfish, mouth opening and closing as the disbelief rendered him, for once, speechless. A wry smile tugged at Dave’s lips and he patted John’s shoulder. “I hope you have car insurance, buddy.”

 

 

Dave only bothered to get a motel with one double bed in the name of Mr. Lalonde.

“It’s my mother’s maiden name,” Dave offered in explanation. “It has no connection to my profession.”

John dropped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands as he let out a long suffering sigh. “My car,” he croaked. “My fucking _car_.” Dave sat on the other side of the bed and carefully laid back, letting his eyes fall blissfully closed. John glared at him. “You are explaining everything right now.”

Dave sighed, keeping his eyes closed as he spoke. “Your work is not being funded by the World Health Organization. It’s being funded by a terrorist faction or a terrorist has infiltrated the World Health Organization—not sure which is worse. It was a gut-feeling. That’s why I crashed your coffee date; I wanted to ask Vriska some shit in private. I wasn’t positive at first, but she must have recognized my name on the card I gave her. My car got t-boned in an intersection near my apartment and I ran the rest of the way home, where they had an actual fucking James Bond villain waiting to chop my nads off. I managed to fend him off and I jumped out the window to the tree outside my apartment; I would regret that shit so hard if I wasn’t alive because of it. I knew I had to come warn you—”

 “Wait. So where exactly did I come into this?” John asked in a flat voice.

“How about the part where it’s your work that’s been stolen?”

“No, fuck that. I mean the danger part. At which point was I endangered?”

“John, they blew up your fucking car.”

“Yes, Dave. They did.” John spoke in sharp consonants, over-articulating like his tongue was a knife. “After you _led them to me!!!_ ”

Dave’s eyes opened then and he gave John an affronted look. “They would have come after you regardless of whether or not I got to you first. I saved your fucking life.”

John barked a sardonic laugh. “No, Dave, you did the opposite of saving my life! All Vriska knew was that we were friends; I never told her about my sex life! There was no intimate connection between us that she was aware of—or at least there wasn’t until you made _me_ the first person you went to in a crisis! God, fuck… _Now they think we’re working together!!_ ”

“Earth to Egbert, we _are_ working together!” Dave snapped. “You just _had_ to pick the most controversial line of research.”

“And _you_ just had to stick your nose into business that wasn’t yours! I have been working with viruses since before I knew you _existed!_ ”

They were both sitting up and glaring at each other, fists clenched with the effort not to lash out as they tried to calm their breathing. Dave was the first to break, swearing under his breath as he let himself fall back to the bed. For a minute, the silence clung to them like a disease. John’s tongue, so sharp before, now felt thick with guilt in his mouth. Maybe Dave was right. Maybe he would have been a target regardless of Dave’s intervention. But it didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done, and whether or not Dave had dragged him kicking and screaming into the danger, he was now protecting John.

John couldn’t bring himself to apologize—he was still too pissed off about the state of affair—but he helped Dave strip to his borrowed t-shirt and boxers, tucking him into the bed. He took the key to the room and left the motel to get something for them to eat since they both missed dinner. Dave was asleep by the time John returned with Chinese take-out, but this was remedied when John prodded his face with a chopstick until he tried to snatch it away. Dave grumbled the entire time as he sat up, but he seemed satisfied enough with the food. John discarded the empty containers in the trash can when they were done and removed his shirt and pants before joining Dave in the bed. After a beat, John turned out the light and slipped beneath the covers. Dave started as he felt cool fingertips against his thigh.

“John, what are you doing?” he whispered.

“Shhh!” John may not have been up to verbally apologizing to Dave, but sometimes actions speak louder than words. Or that’s what he told himself as he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of Dave’s boxers and tugged them down to his upper thighs. Dave was flaccid, but John was confident that it wouldn’t last for long as he took him into hand and ran the flat of his tongue from base to tip, sucking gently on the head. Dave’s breath caught and John would have smirked. There was something surreal about feeling someone become erect in your mouth. Dave’s legs parted further to accommodate John, who hummed contentedly as he felt Dave’s fingers curl into his hair. John was bobbing his head steadily now, one hand curled around Dave’s penis while the other rested on his less-bruised hip.

A few times, John slowed down to let the tip of Dave reach the back of his mouth, swallowing around him to engulf Dave entirely. Dave moaned and murmured appreciatively then. Dave was more than hard enough to need John’s hand for support, so John let his hand move down his own body, dipping beneath his boxers to take care of his own growing arousal, stroking with quick movements. He teased at the tip of Dave’s erection with his tongue, tasting bitter pre-ejaculate and trying for the life of him not to become distracted by the thought of spermatogenesis or the chemical properties of seminal fluid, such as its basicity and how it neutralizes the acidity of the vagina—oh bloody hell. John sped up his ministrations and wrapped his free hand around Dave to pump in time with his mouth. A minute later, Dave was coming with a muted exclamation of John’s name, and a minute after that, John was gasping against Dave’s hip as he brought himself to orgasm with his hand.

John panted against heated flesh until Dave tugged him up by his hair, kissing him messily on the mouth. When they parted, Dave rolled onto his right side and John curled up behind him, wrapping his arm around Dave’s waist and pressing his mouth to his shoulder.

“We can’t go to the police,” John whispered.

“No,” said Dave. “You’re right.”

The police would want to conduct a full scale investigation, and John knew that they couldn’t make any arrests without a warrant, and a warrant required more evidence than Dave saying he gave a girl his name before he was attacked. By the time the police managed to get anywhere, Vriska could be long gone.

The thought startled John. He couldn’t recall ever consciously deciding to believe Dave that Vriska was part of a terrorist group. He wasn’t sure what that said about him. It made him wonder how much he trusted the man in his arms. If Dave’s journalism was as nondescript as he’d made it sound, there’s no way his name would have piqued a terrorist group’s interest, let alone made him enough of a threat to be terminated. No, Dave had definitely lied about that. And yet, John couldn’t find it within himself to be angry with Dave, post-coital hormones notwithstanding.

“I’m going to call Karkat tomorrow,” he decided aloud.

“Not with your cellphone,” said Dave.

John nodded in agreement. Dave’s breathing evened out, alerting John that he had fallen asleep. He let out a sigh and kissed Dave’s shoulder, rubbing small circles on Dave’s hipbone with his thumb as his mind wandered. John had no idea what their next course of action would be. The situation had made it rather clear that John and Dave were on their own. It reminded John of the movies he had loved during his childhood, how much he adored watching the roguish hero save the day against all outstanding odds. Despite his love for the movies, John knew that real life never worked out like that. A scientist and a journalist stood no chance against a terrorist organization. He had no idea where they would even start.

John shifted closer to Dave, letting his hand slide up to the middle of his chest to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat. They would figure out something tomorrow when they’d rested and Dave had healed a little. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can track my ass down at thecomedownchampion.tumblr.com


End file.
